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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884545">beyond your darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_feminist/pseuds/significant-turtleduck'>significant-turtleduck (space_feminist)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>darkness and light [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Break Up, Character Study, Homophobia, M/M, Secret Relationship, Time Skips, nothing explicit actually happens onscreen, rated mature for the first scene just to be safe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:40:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_feminist/pseuds/significant-turtleduck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Did he know that in the moment when they lay breathless on top of each other, Piandao would have left everything behind if he had asked?</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Piandao's last night with Jeong Jeong, and the moments in his life where it comes back to haunt him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeong Jeong/Piandao (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>darkness and light [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. clandestine meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>though this fic takes its title from "all night" by beyonce just like <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592139/chapters/67498430">my last pianjeong fic</a>, i would be remiss if i didn't mention "illicit affairs" by taylor swift as a major influence on this first chapter specifically. both songs are on <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0zmGqp31jmvV8V6mkwYLVU?si=_yEznqM3Q1ij2YY5PKv5Uw">my pianjeong playlist</a> so check that out if you like.</p><p>EDIT: the design of young jeong jeong was inspired by <a href="https://sword-over-water.tumblr.com/post/627240462529462272/i-just-saw-ur-jeong-jeong-x-piandao-art-again-and">this art</a> by sword-over-water on tumblr.</p><p>on to the fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door of Piandao’s room creaked as it opened, the soft sound echoing in the stillness. The hallways of the army base stretched in both directions; stone lit by flickering torchlight. Empty, but for the shadows that danced on the walls. Silent, but for soldiers’ snores and steady breathing. Piandao pulled up the hood of his cloak and stepped out, closing the door behind him with another soft creak. He kept his footsteps light and his head down, face in shadow, as he made his way through the halls.</p><p>This routine was one he knew well. Every sense was attuned, for the footsteps of the night watch in the distance, for the shadow of a guard coming around a corner. His skin prickled like there were eyes on him and made him look over his shoulder into the darkness behind him, and his body tensed to keep his movements silent. He drifted through the base like some lost incorporeal spirit that betrayed no trace of its presence, embracing a temporary invisibility that allowed him a freedom he would never have otherwise.</p><p>He stopped next to a door. In the daylight, the characters on the sign would indicate that this was an office for visiting navy personnel, but tonight, he knocked a quiet pattern into the wood. It opened, and he slipped inside.</p><p>The room was lit by candles, casting long flickering shadows on the walls and on the face of the man standing in front of the desk. His strong cheekbones seemed all the sharper in the dark, his eyebrow scars deeper, his eyes mesmerizingly bright. The sight never failed to set Piandao aflame.</p><p>And then the man said his name like it was poetry, a fond smile softening his features. “Piandao.”</p><p>Piandao lowered his hood. “Jeong Jeong,” he replied, returning the smile.</p><p>“It’s been too long,” Jeong Jeong said, and placed a hand on Piandao’s jaw, guiding it down for a quick kiss.</p><p>“That it has,” Piandao murmured, wrapping his arms around Jeong Jeong in a close embrace, inhaling the scent of smoke and sea air that hung on the admiral.</p><p>Jeong Jeong pressed a kiss to Piandao’s neck. “Your letters were all I lived for.”</p><p>“Your work on the front lines was that dull?” Piandao said into Jeong Jeong’s hair. His fingers toyed with the band that kept his lover’s hair in its neat military topknot, pulling it free and tossing it onto the desk.</p><p>“Quite the opposite,” Jeong Jeong said bitterly. He let out a weary groan, and his body went limp against Piandao’s. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”</p><p>Piandao ran his hands through the loose hair, watching candlelight glint off new grey streaks. “I think it’s good that you haven’t become hardened,” he said softly. “You haven’t let the war take away your humanity.”</p><p>A bitter chuckle near his collarbone. “Little comfort when you’re watching ships burn.”</p><p>Piandao’s heart ached at the cracks in Jeong Jeong’s voice. “Let me be your comfort,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the top of his lover’s head. Bending down, he trailed kisses across Jeong Jeong’s face, along the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, over the eyebrow scars and the crook in his nose. His skin was warm, his hair was soft in Piandao’s hands, and he seemed to melt under the touches. He sighed and closed his eyes, and Piandao kissed his eyelids, one after the other, before pulling away to look down at the face below him.</p><p>Blissful in the candlelight, the worried lines of his forehead smooth, for a moment Jeong Jeong seemed free. Unburdened by the guilt that Piandao knew he held too close to his chest. If only he could stay that way forever. If only they could stay in this moment forever, together in their own world that the war couldn’t touch. Piandao traced his hand along Jeong Jeong’s cheek reverently.</p><p>“Just kiss me already, Piandao,” Jeong Jeong said, his voice a rasp barely above a whisper.</p><p>Piandao bent down, and Jeong Jeong’s lips met his eagerly. One of Jeong Jeong’s hands slid underneath Piandao’s cloak and tunic, tracing the curve of his back, and the simple touch sent a jolt through his body. Piandao deepened the kiss hungrily, his fingers curling in Jeong Jeong’s hair and grazing his scalp. His lover’s lips were warm in a distinct firebender way, and heat spread from every place their skin touched, pooling low in Piandao’s stomach. Piandao thrust his hips, pushing Jeong Jeong up against the desk. He hit it with a <em>thunk</em> that echoed through the room, and immediately, they froze.</p><p>The only thing Piandao could hear and feel was their heartbeats. <em>Thump-thump-thump</em>, out of sync with each other. Jeong Jeong gestured with his hand, and the candlelight dimmed. They laid there, in the dark and stillness, paralyzed.</p><p>But no sound came from outside, no indication that anyone had heard them, and Piandao felt Jeong Jeong let out a breath underneath him.</p><p>“We have to be careful, Piandao,” he said.</p><p>“I know,” Piandao breathed. He trailed a finger down Jeong Jeong’s chest.</p><p>Jeong Jeong grasped his wrist. “You don’t understand. People are talking.”</p><p>The heat in Piandao’s stomach turned to ice. “Oh.”</p><p>“It is an affair that would be <em>excusable</em> among two young soldiers, but it is unbecoming of an <em>admiral</em> to fraternize so with his<em> inferior</em>,” Jeong Jeong said, words dripping with contempt.</p><p>“Oh,” Piandao said again.</p><p>An affair. Of course that’s what they thought this was. Two young soldiers taking care of base urges in the absence of women. Dispassionate, utilitarian, almost clinical. Such relationships were not encouraged, but they were understood to be a natural consequence of all-male environments. It was the only way such things were granted even the barest minimum of toleration. Any implication that this was more than that, that women would never come into play for either of them…</p><p>How strange, Piandao mused, that the most taboo parts of their relationship were the moments of affection and playful intimacy, of gentleness and genuine care. That they <em>loved </em>was what was unspeakable and disgraceful.</p><p>How strange that was, and how <em>unjust</em>.</p><p>“Do you want me to leave?” Piandao asked.</p><p>An exhale. “No.”</p><p>Piandao slid a hand downwards. “Do you want me to keep going?” he asked, his breath against Jeong Jeong’s cheek.</p><p>Jeong Jeong looked up at him, and even in the dim light, the longing was written plainly on his face.</p><p>“Yes,” he said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me, reading piandao's backstory on the avatar wiki: ooh this is so sad i love it</p><p>piandao's calligraphy setup comes from me referencing screenshots of the show, as well as <a href="https://volkswagonblues.tumblr.com/post/633268295419740160/a-lil-guide-to-the-fire-nation-for-the-atla-fic">this tumblr post</a> about the fire nation's real-life influences by one of my favorite fic writers <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuffystilton/pseuds/chuffystilton">chuffystilton</a>. highly recommend her stuff.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fire had died down to embers, the tea in his hands had grown cold, and Piandao was thinking about the past again.</p><p>He sat in the little house he’d bought with his army pension, and he remembered a firebender who would heat tea in his hands, a man who smelled of smoke like the dying fire did. Bright eyes, and a fierce heart, brave and vulnerable underneath the titles and status.</p><p>His chest tightened. A man who left without saying goodbye.</p><p>For years, Piandao had been replaying the events of that night in his mind. He’d scan his lover’s face, shrouded in darkness, for some sign of the secret he’d held even in that most hidden of moments. Was there a note of finality in his tone? Did he gasp as if it was his last breath? Did he hold Piandao as if he knew he would lose him? </p><p>Did he know that in the moment when they lay breathless on top of each other, Piandao would have left everything behind if he had asked?</p><p>Piandao had played the role that night, of the young soldier of no status offering himself up as a comfort to the esteemed admiral. Their age difference was negligible, Jeong Jeong wasn’t his commander and didn’t care about his orphanage past, but perhaps the act had been too thorough. Perhaps Jeong Jeong had thought he was a child unable to see the brokenness of their nation, a naïve young man who believed the war was just and right. But Piandao would have deserted with him, and it would not have been the reckless action of a love-blinded youth, but the choice of a man who had grown to see the same reality. Did Jeong Jeong not know that?</p><p>He took a sip of his lukewarm tea, and though the night was warm, it seemed to chill him to his core.</p><p>Maybe Jeong Jeong hadn’t known that. Maybe he hadn’t known Piandao at all. Piandao clearly hadn’t known him. If he had, he would have known how deeply Jeong Jeong’s disillusionment ran, that it ran deep enough that he would leave everything he knew behind. Piandao could have begged to come along, assured him of his devotion. They could have run away together and made a life in hiding in the Earth Kingdom. Anything to be by his side, to be enough for him, to be loved by him.</p><p>But that didn’t happen. Piandao’s lover had left him without a word, without warning, left him dragging out old memories trying to make sense of it. Left him wondering if what they had had meant anything, or if it was nothing more than a heated affair between two soldiers in the midst of war. </p><p>His hands clenched around the teacup, and something flared up in his chest. With a sharp movement, he flung his hand out and dumped the contents of the cup onto the fire. It hissed, giving off more smoke, and the room fell into near-darkness. The only light came from a single candle resting on a nearby table.</p><p>He owed this man no more of his mind and heart. It was time to forget. To leave him behind.</p><p>Piandao blew the candle out, and retreated into the shadows.</p>
<hr/><p>The fire was roaring, the tea in his hands was warm, and Piandao supposed he should be grateful.</p><p>He’d grown up as an orphan. To be welcomed back into his noble family, given one of their estates for his own, should be all he had dreamed of. And true, as a child, he often wished that his family would come back for him. That they would say that they were wrong to leave him, that he was worthy enough in their eyes. His teachers taught him painting and calligraphy to steady his trembling hands, and he painted smiling parents and himself in between, writing the characters for family. They looked at him with pitying looks that now, he understood. They were never going to come back for him.</p><p>They had not come back for that shy child. They had come back for a well-reputed swordsman and distinguished former soldier, an asset to their family name. He’d had half a mind to snap at them, tell them that if they’d wanted him, they could have decided that when he was a child. But truth be told, his pension was running out, and apprentice blacksmithing didn’t pay that well. So he bit his tongue and accepted their insincere gestures.</p><p>And now he sat in a cavernous bedroom in <em>his</em> estate, on a mat next to the fireplace, watching the flames flicker, and he couldn’t help but remember another nobleman. A prodigy firebender. What his parents wished he were, yet the man was burdened by it, by the pressure of the expectations and by his belief that firebending held the potential for destructive, terrible power. How that must torture him now, wherever he had fled. He had every reason to believe that that was the full truth of his bending art, that he held horrible power in his own body.</p><p><em>He left you with no word or goodbye,</em> Piandao reminded himself. <em>Wherever he is, he does not deserve your pitying thoughts. He will live with his own pain.</em></p><p>But the man’s face still lingered in his mind, the same as he had seen it that last night. Candlelight making his features severe, guilt and pain writ plain on his face. Piandao’s breathing caught in his chest. Was it cruelty, or was it misguided kindness to leave him without a word? A twisted notion of protection, of atoning for his sins? Did he not know Piandao bore that guilt too?</p><p> His hands shook, and tea splashed on the floor. He set the cup down on the low table and looked down at his hands. Calloused from years of gripping the hilt of his sword, marked with small scars from battle…and trembling like he was still the nervous little boy at the orphanage. He forced himself to take a few slow breaths, in and out. It would not be so easy to put this man out of his mind. His own body told him so. He may not have the inner flame, but he could consume himself from the inside just as easily. </p><p>Getting to his feet, he walking across the room to where he’d left his traveling bag. A stick of ink. A jar of water. An ink stone. A case of brushes. Paper. His movements grew methodical as he followed the soothing, familiar routine. He focused on the sensations – on the soft <em>thunks</em> of the weights on the paper’s edges, on the scrape of the stick against the inkstone, on the resistance against his brush as he mixed the ink and the scent of the final mixture. When he picked up the brush, it was with steady hands that he wrote out the words.</p><p>Jeong Jeong.</p><p>The characters shone on the page in the firelight. Again, he dipped his brush in the ink.</p><p>Jeong Jeong.</p><p>He wrote the name until the characters filled the page, ink echoing the name like a heartbeat. Setting it aside, he unfurled a new page. This time, he allowed the brush to trace his memory. The curves of chin and cheekbones, brow and nose. Sharp, alive eyes, and hair tumbling down from a military topknot. Two streaks cutting through the left eyebrow. In simple strokes of black ink, the face that haunted Piandao’s memories emerged, out of his mind and onto paper.</p><p>The traitor. The deserter. The man who broke his heart.</p><p>He slid the weights off the paper and held it up to the firelight. The damp ink dripped, and he contemplated throwing it into the flames. Maybe then he would be able to let the memory go.</p><p>But looking at the face, lit in the warm orange of the fire, a memory sparked to life in his mind.</p><p>
  <em>“</em>
  <em>Listen to me, </em>
  <em>Piandao</em>
  <em>. Your family has no idea what they gave up.</em>
  <em>”</em>
  <em> His </em>
  <em>strong</em>
  <em> hands gripped </em>
  <em>Piandao</em>
  <em>’</em>
  <em>s</em>
  <em> face, and a thumb brushed away a tear. </em>
  <em>“</em>
  <em>You</em>
  <em>…you are one of the most incredible men I</em>
  <em>’</em>
  <em>ve ever met</em>
  <em>. </em>
  <em>You could do anything you </em>
  <em>wanted if</em>
  <em> you put your mind to it</em>
  <em>.</em>
  <em>”</em>
</p><p>A tear fell from Piandao’s eye and landed on the page, smudging the ink.</p><p>
  <em>“</em>
  <em>I will never be what they want.</em>
  <em>”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A kiss. </em>
  <em>“</em>
  <em>You don</em>
  <em>’</em>
  <em>t have to be. You are worth so much more.</em>
  <em>”</em>
</p><p>Piandao’s hands shook, and the paper slipped out of his hands and into the flames.</p><p>“No!” he cried, and he reached out for it, only to recoil with a cry of pain. The paper curled in on itself, blackening, slowly dissolving into ash, and he clutched his injured hand to his chest.</p><p>All those years loving a firebender, and it was the loss that had burned him.</p><p>His vision blurred with tears, his body shook with sobs, and his hand stung. <em>I</em> <em>love him. I still love him. </em>The realization echoed through him. <em>I love him. </em>His tears fell,and he let them fall until there was no more water, only gasping air and a new horizon of clarity.</p><p>He wiped his face on his sleeve and got to his feet unsteadily. His years in the army were good for something – he always kept burn ointment and bandages around, and he knew how to dress a burn. It probably wouldn’t even scar, unlike several other places where Piandao had not been able to escape friendly fire. And as the pain subsided, his hand wrapped in bandages, he thought about the words again.</p><p><em>You could do anything you wanted</em>.</p><p>For the first time, Piandao saw freedom in the walls of the estate, in the acceptance of his parents. Gold was gold, no matter where it came from.</p><p>
  <em>You are worth so much more.</em>
</p><p>He would leave in the morning, and he would find his own path.</p>
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